


Drabble Collection

by Kazewrites



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Caretaking, Coughing, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Fanfiction, Fever, Gen, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Sick Aziraphale (Good Omens), Sick Character, Sick Crowley (Good Omens), Sickfic, Sneezing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-16 13:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20818172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kazewrites/pseuds/Kazewrites
Summary: Collection of 7 short Good Omens drabbles based on prompts I received from tumblr.





	Drabble Collection

Prompt 1: How do I get this thermometer to work?

"Angel, could you sit still?”

“Crowley, you’re being ridiculous.”

“Says the person with the fever.” Crowley said lowly while his face contorted looking at the digital thermometer he’d found. “How do I get this thermometer to work?” He grumbled while pushing buttons.

Aziraphale grumpily shrugged. “You can work that silly brainy phone but not a thermometer?”

“Smartphone, Angel, smartphone…. oh huh…” Suddenly the thermometer turned on. “Ok here.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes as Crowley stuck it under his tongue.

****  
Prompt 2: Not that I’m complaining, but are you always this warm?

“For Satan’s sake, why does London have to be so cold?” Crowley muttered as he exited the Bentley. “Hell might not be nice but at least it’s warm.” Reaching the doors of the bookshop, Crowley snapped his fingers.

“Aziraphale.” He called upon entering.

“In here, my dear.” The angel’s voice rang from the back room.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Crowley found Aziraphale at his desk dressed in his normal debonair attire. The lamp light above shined like a halo over the angels bright blonde hair. Crowley nearly forgot about the cold until a full body shiver shook through him.

This caught Aziraphale’s attention. “Are you alright, Crowley?” He asked while removing his glasses.

“Yep. Never better.” Crowley made his way to the decanter, pouring himself a brandy. “Join me in a drink.”

“Ah well…” Aziraphale’s eyes darted for a moment. “Perhaps, but first we must address your shivering. Here.”

Before Crowley could argue, Aziraphale had him by the arm leading him over to the sofa. The angel’s hand felt quite warm.

“Now, sit, I’ll fetch a blanket.” Aziraphale went to turn but felt Crowley’s grip on him.

“I’d rather you warm me angel.” A wily smile formed on his lips. Aziraphale gulped as his face reddened.

“Right. Yes. Rather…” He stammered as he sat next to the demon. It felt lovely, like slipping into a warm bath. It was then Aziraphale realized how cold he had been feeling. His eyes fluttered as he leaned against Crowley’s shoulder.

“Not that I’m complaining, but are you always this warm?” Crowley asked.

“Hmm? What my dear?” Aziraphale felt a hand on his face.

“Nevermind angel, just rest.”

****  
Prompt 3: I never would have asked you to go if I knew you were sick.

*1973 London*

“Well that was fun.” Crowley declares happily though he pauses to cough into his sleeve.

Aziraphale casts a worried gaze his way as the two exit the West End Theater. “Yes, thrilling.”

“You didnt enjoy it?”

“Oh no no, I did really. The main character was ever so talented.” Aziraphale rubs his hands together nervously as Crowley coughs again. “I never would have asked you to go if I knew you were sick.”

Crowley waves him off, "T’s nothing, angel.” His voice cracks slightly. “Care to Time Warp again with me?”

Aziraphale scoffs, “You know the only dancing I fancy is the gavotte.” He frowns, still upset that it’s out of style.

Crowley laughs which quickly turns into another harsh cough.

“Let’s go back to the bookshop, I’ll make tea.”

****  
Prompt 4: I thought I heard a sneeze.

“What about this one?” Crowley held up a beautiful leafy green fern. “Aren’t you a looker?”

Aziraphale gave a weary shrug. “Oh I don’t know. You’re the botanist.” He said sniffling hard.

Crowley set the plant down. “Angel, are you sure you’re up to this?” His voice low.

Even with his glasses on, Aziraphale could feel those snake eyes evaluating his condition. “Yes, tip top, absolutely…”

“Do not say tickety-boo…” Crowley hissed. Aziraphale snapped his mouth shut.

They continued to browse the garden aisles for plants. Finally after a good amount of sniffling, the cold Aziraphale had been denying he had reared its head. Inhaling sharply the angel barely got his handkerchief out muffling a hard sneeze.

“Aziraphale?”

“I’m fine, dear.” He replied quickly pocketing the cloth.

“I thought I heard a sneeze.” Crowley replied not turning around as he eyed a luscious alocasia.

“No, no simply….um…well…” Sadly, Aziraphale couldn’t continue as his breath hitched again. This time the harsh sneeze wasn’t as easily contained.

He looked up meeting the reflective lenses of his demon.

“I, well, you see…” The flushed angel stammered.

“Aziraphale.” Crowley held the last syllable.

“Right.” Aziraphale sighed, his eyes darted to Crowley and then away. “Lead on. And don’t yell at this one.” His hand now clutching his handkerchief montioned to the plant.

“As long as it grows better.”

****  
Prompt 5: Bless you! That was a good one.

"Angel?” Crowley rasped. Turning his head which ached toward the blanket covered lump next to him. “You wake?”

“Well I am now, my dear.” Aziraphale rolled over. His eyes glassy and red which matched his nose. “Did you ne…eed… some…” His head dipped down as Aziraphale half concealed an exhausted sneeze into the blanket.

“Bless you! That was a good one.” Crowley croaked leaning. "Ugh can’t believe I said that first part.” Crowley lapped his tongue as if he trying to get the bitter taste from his mouth.

“Yes, quite.” Aziraphale replied turning toward Crowley. “Let’s go back to sleep.”

Crowley simply nodded.

****  
Prompt 6: I really don’t like the sound of that.

Crowley leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his black shirt, as he watched the TV. True, he had not been fond of Shakespeare’s original rendition of Hamlet but Kenneth Branaugh’s version might sway his opinion. A smile flickered on his lips as he remembered how happy the angel had been with his little demonic miracle. The two had caught a performance after Aziraphale had returned from Edinburgh.

According to the message he had left on the answering machine a week ago, that’s where Aziraphale was. He hadn’t stated why but assured Crowley he’d ring him when returning.

As if the Almighty had noticed his thoughts, the phone rang.

Hi, this is Anthony Crowley. You know what to do, do it with style.

“Hello, C-crowley. It’s…me.”

Crowley’s head jerked hearing barely a whisper sound through the machine. Immediately the receiver was in his hand.

“Aziraphale?” Trying to keep the concern out of his voice proved harder than normal. “Where are you?” Perhaps the angel was on a bad connection.

“My…bookshop, silly.” Aziraphale’s fragile voice broke. “Where el…” Crowley heard movement followed by a moment of silence. As his lips parted to speak he heard a deep wheezing cough erupt. Crowley’s hand instinctively tightened on the phone.

“Angel?”

“Right…yes, I’m…” Aziraphale cleared his throat. The force alone sounded as it hurt. “I’m here.”

“Stay where you are, I’ll be there in 10 minutes.” Crowley said quickly grabbing his cell phone.

“My dear boy, I…” Another nasty deep cough cut Aziraphale short.

“I really don’t like the sound of that, angel. Be right there.” Not giving his friend a chance to argue Crowley slammed the phone down and hightailed it to the Bentley.

****  
Prompt 7: Would you stop it? I know you’re faking it.

“Annnngeeelllllllllllllll!“

Aziraphale grunted as his fingers massaged his temples. The long draw of his endearment tern rang again down the halls of Crowley’s flat.

“Just a second.” He called back. Originally he had been concerned when Crowley rang him saying it was important but as it turned out, Aziraphale had the suspiscion the sneaky snake had only feigned illness to get his friend to tidy the flat. Not that it was awful, unlike himself, Crowley didn’t own enough worldly possession to constitute a “mess”. Still though the angel found himself picking up loose things and finding their homes. Crowley specifically told him not to water the plants.

Though he hadn’t Aziraphale did tell them all they looked exceptionally green to which a few leaves raised.

“Anngeelllllllllllll”

Huffing, Aziraphale had enough. Straightening his jacket and waistcoat he marched into Crowley’s bed room. “Really now. Would you stop it? I know you’re faking it.” He said crossly.

Crowley, who was laying on the bed one leg crossed over the other, smirked, “Oh really, am I?”

“If you wanted assistance cleaning, you simply could have asked.” Aziraphale felt a bit upset that he’d been taken advantage off. 

Crowley pouted, then patted the bed next to him. “How about I make it up to you?”

Aziraphale blushed.


End file.
